Mirrors
by Esareh
Summary: There is a point where one loses everything in order to gain everything. There is a point at which every mirror is a two way mirror, because the person staring back at you through the glass is someone you don't recognize. Oneshot Voldy-fic.


_Author's Note: Every Freshman at my university is required to take one of the many seminar courses offered that year. Mine was Harry Potter themed (Best class ever, right? I actually got a grade for that!) and as part of our final we were required to... essentially write a fanfic. She called it 'Budding off of the world of Harry Potter.' Someone wrote slash. Win. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. _

_

* * *

_

"What is this nonsense? A two way mirror? Who would be fool enough?"

He palmed the mirror, twisting the handle through his spidery fingers. The metal was cool against his skin, smooth and well-worn with time and use.

He spun the mirror so that the reflective surface was pointed towards his face. He squinted into the frame of the mirror. Two slitted red eyes stared back at him through the polished glass, blinking once before fixing their gaze. Thin lips curled into a cruel smirk, pulling the thin, almost paper-like covering of skin over impossibly sharp cheekbones in what must have been a particularly uncomfortable manner.

He scoffed, laying it aside. Nothing more than an ordinary mirror.

"Wormtail," he called.

The younger man rounded the corner almost immediately, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

"Y-yes, Master?" he stuttered.

"Tell my Death Eaters that I shall meet with them now."

"Yes, my Lord. They've been… been waiting for some time."

Burning, angry eyes fixed their attention on him. "Does anyone wish to… raise a grievance?"

"N-no, my Lord." Wormtail said quickly. "I only meant that they're r-ready for you since… since they've been waiting."

"You have that backwards, Wormtail." his master hissed. "_I _am ready for _them._"

"M-m-my apologies, M-master."

"Quit sniveling," He snapped, "And go."

Wormtail scurried out of the room, very apparently relieved at having been dismissed.

* * *

"…Reports that he is hiding somewhere in the wilderness."

"That is most unhelpful, Yaxley. There happen to be a great many wildernesses in England." Came the snide reply from somewhere further down the table.

"At least I've information to give." He snapped.

"Why don't we just burn everything to the ground?" a woman cackled. "Burny-burn the wittle Potty boy to the ground!"

Voldemort, seated at the front of the table, toyed with his wand, annoyed beyond measure.

"Silence!" he roared over the babble that had arisen. "Is this any way to behave before your Lord?"

His followers snapped into attentiveness almost immediately. Muted apologies rose up around the table, hanging in the heavy air like fog, bits of fear clinging to the drapes, the furniture, anything they could attach to.

Voldemort flicked his wand towards Yaxley carelessly, staring unblinkingly at the man as he shrieked and writhed in pain. The other Death Eaters looked on in horror, shock etching itself across their features. The mad-woman laughed wildly, howling louder and louder with each cry the man uttered.

"Enough, Bellatrix." Voldemort ordered.

The woman fell silent immediately.

"Locating Harry Potter will no longer be top priority." He announced. "He cannot run forever. In truth, I do not _expect _him to run forever. He is too fool, too weak, too _noble _to avoid me. His need for…" Voldemort's lip curled into a sneer. "Rightness insures that he will present himself to me on a silver platter. No more wasted hours searching for the boy.

"I have made plans," he began. "To take possession of the Elder Wand."

An air of disbelief immediately took hold of the atmosphere of the room.

"The Elder Wand has been lost for decades."

"Do you _doubt _me, Severus? You, my most loyal. You, my most _trusted. _You _doubt _me?" Rage seared through crimson eyes as thin lips pulled sharply up against pointed teeth, a snarl biting through the usually stolid face of the dark lord.

"I will conquer Death. I will _become _death!" he roared. "I am Death already!"

.

"_Hello." He said as the youngest of the household walked into the room, startling the man so violently that he nearly hit the floor. "Are you Tom Riddle?"_

_ "Alms, sir? For a poor, pathetic man put out on th' street? Don't got nothing, no one, or nowhere, sir." The tramp extended his thin, shaking hands._

_ He sneered. "Alms? I have something better."_

_.  
_

_ "Lily, take Harry and go!" the red-head's husband ordered, taking a defensive stance. "Go!" _

_ Cradling the infant to her chest, she bolted up the stairs, retreating into a room and slamming the door behind her_

_"You understand the punishment." He said, raising his wand. "Lord Voldemort does not tolerate weakness."_

_.  
_

_ The sink slid sideways at his words, revealing the cavernous tunnel through which his weapon could be accessed._

"Rise." _He hissed into the blackness. _"Your master calls."

.

_ The elderly man in the doorway was visibly shaken, wide-eyed and dumb with fear. "My wife…" he babbled. "She knows I'm here!"_

_.  
_

_ "No… no, please, Tom. Please." The old woman murmured, covering her face with her hands. "Please, no."_

_ "Now, now, there's no need to beg." A cruel smile twisted itself onto his macabre features. "I'd be more than happy to kill you."_

_ "No!" the woman shrieked, clamping her hands on either side of her head and shaking it violently. "No, no, no."_

_.  
_

_ The child was alone, wandering aimlessly through the forest. Cold. Hungry. Terrified._

_ How convenient that he should have stumbled upon it so promptly after claiming his prize._

_.  
_

_ "Who are you?" the man demanded, suddenly furious. "How did you get in here? This is private property!"_

_ "What's the matter?" he asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Don't you recognize your own son?"_

_.  
_

_ "Better? What do you mean better?" the tramp asked excitedly, possibilities flying through his mind a mile a minute. _

_ "Oh, you'll see."_

_.  
_

_ "Stand aside!" he ordered. "Don't be a fool."_

_ "Not Harry. Please, not Harry. Take me, instead!"_

_ "Don't be a fool." He said again._

_.  
_

"_I… I didn't mean…"_

_ "That's enough." He said calmly. "_Crucio!"

_The man writhed in pain, clawing at the hem of his robe in what was an evident plea for mercy._

_ "I will make you _beg _for death._

_.  
_

_ "_Kill." _He murmured, stroking the immense scales on the Basilisk's back almost lovingly. "_Make your master proud. Purge our noble halls of those unfit to walk them."

_The monster hissed a reply, reaching down to tap its giant head against the young man's side affectionately before slithering off. _

_.  
_

_ "Do not lie to Lord Voldemort." He croaked. "No one knows you are here." His small, distorted face twisted into a pale imitation of an unpleasant smile. "And no one will notice you are gone. Wormtail, my wand."_

_.  
_

_ "I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith, that this meeting has to end so abruptly."_

_ "Tom, please, no!"the woman sobbed, the bones in her over-tight corset creaking nearly in-tune with her cries. _

_ "Do _not _call me Tom!" he roared, jabbing his wand into her throat. "I am _not _Tom. I am Lord Voldemort."_

_.  
_

_ "Are you lost?" he asked in near-flawless Albanian. _

_ The child acquired an almost doe-like expression, one of innocent fear tinged with a slight interest and, he noted with pleasure, _hope.

_"Yes, sir." The child sniffled finally._

_ "Now that I am here, you have nothing to worry about."_

_.  
_

_ Fear flickered through the older man's eyes. Blatant, open fear. "W-what do you want?"_

_ "Want?" he asked, pausing his wand between his fingers. "What do I _want?" _he snarled, eyes narrowing. "I see the fear in your eyes. Let me assure you that it is not unfounded."_

_.  
_

_ "Show me?" the tramp asked eagerly. "Are you going to take me somewhere? Buy me a meal? Put me up for the night?"_

_ "Oh, much better than that. I intend to end your suffering once and for all."_

_.  
_

_ "I will spare you. This is your last chance. Don't be weak."_

_ "No! No, no, no! Please, have mercy! I'll do anything!" _

_ "Do not test Lord Voldemort's patience, you foolish girl! STAND ASIDE!" _

_.  
_

"_Please…stop!" the man gasped, crying out as the fifth wave of the curse hit him dead on._

_ "You know how to make it stop." He said. _

_ "No… no…"_

_ "Two little words." He soothed. "Just say them, and it can all be done."_

_.  
_

"_This is a great tragedy indeed." he said sadly, watching the girl's crumpled body being carried away by the near-antiseptic men who had come from the Ministry. He closed his eyes and looked away. "I feel this is all my fault." He confessed. _

_ "It's not your fault, Tom." The kindly headmaster patted his shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done."_

_ "Perhaps if I had been more vigilant… as Prefect it is my duty to-"_

_ "Tom." The headmaster said firmly. "This is _not _your fault."_

_.  
_

_He clutched the wand in his tiny, misshapen hand, ignoring how… odd it felt between those foreign fingers. _

_ "Avada Kedavra." _

_ The elderly man collapsed in the doorway, his walking-stick clattering to the floor seconds after he did._

_.  
_

_ "What… what's happened to you? What happened to that… that sweet young man I used to know?" the woman's voice trembled so violently that he was nearly unable to understand her. _

_ "That young man is dead." He explained as she finally hit the corner that he had been backing her into. "Something you and he shall shortly have in common." He smiled, that glimmering, charming smile that he had flattered her with before. It was taunting, now, as he raised his wand. _

_ The bolt of green light hit her dead in her chest, and she collapsed into the corner._

_.  
_

_ The child smiled slightly up at the hooded figure before him. A gleam of red glinted through the shadow that covered its face. The child took a step back in fear. Something wasn't quite right. _

_ He pulled his wand from his robe slowly, the child's deer-like demeanor perhaps encouraging him to move more slowly, for fear of startling it. _

_ "Sir-" the child began shakily._

_ He jabbed the tip of the wooden instrument against the child's ribs and hissed the killing curse._

_.  
_

"_Avada Kedevra." He murmured, flicking his wand towards his father. The man hit the ground with a very audible thud that was hardly masked by the fine carpet underneath him._

"_Tom, what's going on in…" the elderly woman began, popping around the doorway. Her eyes hit upon the crumpled form of her son, dead on the floor, and she screamed. Blood-curdlingly. Agonizingly. _

_Her husband rushed in and, before he had a chance to ask what had happened, a flash of green silenced them both._

_.  
_

_The tramp's half-crazed mind was crafting all sorts of fabulous ideas. End his suffering for good? What could the strange man possibly mean? Riches beyond his wildest dreams. A castle in the south of France. Fine clothes. Fine foods. _

_His thoughts were interrupted by the man's pulling an odd stick from his cloak. _

"_Whass that, then?" he asked._

"_This? This is the gateway to your salvation."_

_And the tramp clattered to the pavement._

_.  
_

"_I have tried to be merciful, but you leave me with no other option." He hissed. _

"_Please, no. Not my boy. Not my Harry." The woman pleaded._

"_Avada Kedavra." _

_She collapsed in a heap on the floor, her red hair pooling around her, managing in the dusty light of the room to shine with a crimson luster not unlike blood. He stepped over her body and towards the baby who sat in his crib sucking on his fingers, blissfully unaware of his new orphan status._

_.  
_

_"K-kill me." The man finally pleaded. "Kill me."_

"_Now, now." He taunted "Where _are _your manners?"_

"_Kill… me. P-please."_

"_That's more like it." He ended the curse, leaving the man feeling blissfully numb. "Better now?"_

_The man nodded pitifully, thinking that, perhaps, the Dark Lord had changed his mind. That it had all been a game, and now that the words were said, they'd stop playing._

"Imperio." _he murmured. The man's body jerked painfully upwards as he shuffled towards the window. "I feel disinclined to honor your request." He said. "Why don't you kill yourself?"_

_The man, horrified at what his body was doing, pushed his fist through the window, shattering it. He grabbed an over-large piece of glass, wriggling it free from the frame where it still rested, jutting towards the ceiling like a ragged incisor. The edges of the glass cut through his fingers and he cried out._

_Freeing the shard, he found himself raising the pointed edge towards his throat._

"_No, not like this!" he begged, trying to fight the compelling force inside of his body. He struggled against it. _

Do it. _A voice inside of his head hissed. _Do it now.

_The man's hand rose to his throat and, before he had a chance to plead, made one, quick slice. The spell was broken, and the man's arm fell abruptly to his side. He clutched his throat, unable to speak as blood ran through his fingers. He croaked momentarily before falling to his knees._

"_That's right. Bow before your master."_

_The man gasped a final time before falling forward._

"Enough!" Voldemort roared, unsure whether he was addressing his followers, who had begun chattering amongst themselves at the mention of the Elder Wand, or his memories.

Both ceased to chatter immediately, plunging the room and his mind into silence.

"You are all dismissed." He stated, cutting the meeting unexpectedly short. He rose to his feet in one smooth, slithering motion. "I don't believe that I have to tell you how important it is that this plan remains confidential. I won't tolerate anyone gallivanting around whispering secrets like schoolgirls. I don't think I have to remind you of the punishment."

The Death Eaters bowed their heads, all immensely confused. They hadn't even been given any orders. Their master was acting very strangely, but the lot of them knew better than to even think of questioning him.

Voldemort strode through the door of his personal chamber, patting a sleeping Nagini as he passed her. He stopped before the small, circular mirror that hung on the wall, raking red eyes over his features.

"I am Death." He said, watching as his thin, near transparent lips moved around the words as he spoke them. He was fascinated with his own reflection, seeing himself as he never had before. As if he were just seeing himself for the first time.

_When did I become this? _He wondered, running spidery fingers over the jagged curve of his cheek, over the flat slits where his nose should have been. He recalled the days of his youth. He had been handsome, then. At least on the outside. Possibly on the inside, too, though it had been a fleeting sensation.

_This is the price for becoming Death. This is the price for becoming The Dark Lord. Master of everything. The most feared man in the world._

He smirked. "The most feared." He said aloud. "Yes."

Screams echoed in his head. Cries and pleas that had fallen on his own deaf ears. He heard them vividly. _Reveled _in them.

There is a point, after plans are executed, after goals are set, after deeds are done, at which an individual changes. There is a point where ideals are altered, inhibitions destroyed, and pieces of one's self are left forgotten in cold, dark places. There is a point where one loses everything in order to gain everything. There is a point at which _every _mirror is a two way mirror, because the person staring back at you through the glass is someone you don't recognize.

Abruptly, he seized the mirror, tearing it from the nails that held it in place and threw it against the opposite wall. It shattered with a crash and he, satisfied, made his way over to Nagini who shook her tired head and curled around his arm.

"_Come, my dear." _he hissed. "_We have plans to lay."_

The mirror lay forgotten on the floor.


End file.
